Slowly then all at once
by Cuticlecare
Summary: PROMPT : Music is kinda illegal. I found these notes and I want to know what it sounds like. You're a well-known music dealer; do you happen to understand these notes? Can you help me?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Business was slow tonight.

And for once, Donald didn't seem to mind.

He pushed his black-rimmed glasses higher up his nose and scanned round the place. Yep, just the regulars. No one too troublesome. It might mean he could possibly close a little early, maybe get some chinese at a joint he knew opened late. Chase that with a cold beer, catch up with some recorded tv shows. Yep, sounds like it's going to be an ideal night. The last few evenings the bar had been slammed so it was nice that he could take it easy tonight.

Donald was still contemplating what he was going to have for dinner when the bell above the door jingled loudly. The door opened and Beca Mitchel walked in.

"Hey," Donald called out as the pint-sized brunette walked up to the bar.

She nodded in response, climbing up to sit on the stool. He didn't need to ask what she wanted. Donald knew her since she was yea high. He pulled a draft from the tap and placed it in front of her. Without asking again, Donald went over to the kitchen and ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. That was her favourite, and it was cheap enough for him to put it on the house. Times were hard.

He went back, checking on the brunette.

"How's things?" Donald asked. "You coping?"

She put down the beer she was drinking and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Beca replied.

Donald did not look convinced. The last two weeks had been hard on her.

"You know, Beca, you could always move in with us," Donald was saying now. "Stacie wouldn't mind -"

Beca just waved vaguely at him, cutting him off.

"Don, we've talked about this," she replied. "You've got a one-bed flat. I'm not going to impose myself on you -"

"Nate would hate you staying at that rat-infested hostel," Donald said worriedly. "He would want me to take care of you."

"Yeah he would," Beca nodded."- but you've done plenty, already. Don't think I didn't notice you never take money for the food, Donald. Thanks for that."

Right on cue, the service bell pinged loudly. Her grilled cheese sandwich was ready.

"Eat up," Donald said, placing the sandwich in front of her. He went back to his job, serving a few more drinks before coming back to Beca. The plate was licked clean. Donald mentally shook his head a little sadly. It must be her only meal for the day.

"Another one?" he said, pointing to her half empty beer. She hesitated for a while before nodding and he pulled her another glass. She seems to be quaffing the drink down. Donald knew her well enough - she was not trying to get drunk; she was probably trying to work up enough courage to ask him for something.

He wondered what it was.

It couldn't be somewhere to crash - she flat out refused his offer. If she wanted a loan, she knew he didn't have much money. It couldn't be she wanted a job at the bar because she was working all hours already.

"What do you need?" Donald asked point blank.

Beca seemed taken aback at how direct he was being. Donald waited as she took another swig of her drink before finally looking up at him.

"You know the fire took everything -" she spoke up.

Donald nodded, not taking his eyes off her. Beca swallowed hard.

"- well, it didn't," she said. "I've got this -"

Her hand disappeared under the counter and then, it reappeared, holding a slim packet. Donald glanced curiously at the object. It was a small folder, made of leather, a little bigger than a normal sized envelope. A red leather cord was wound round the packet, ending up in a tight knot.

Beca had placed the folder on the counter, next to her beer and unpicked the knot. Donald watched in trepidation as she unraveled the cord, revealing the inside. Oh. Papers. The little folder contained scraps of papers. She fished out a few, pushing them towards Donald. He took them automatically, not quite comprehending what he was looking at and how on earth did Beca got these.

"They are notes. Musical notes -" Beca was saying now. "I can't read them. Do you know of anyone -"

"For fuck's sake, put that thing away," Donald hissed, hurriedly pushing the scraps of paper back into Beca's hands. "You're gonna get us both arrested!"

Beca clumsily stuffed back the pieces back into the leather folder while Donald glanced around uneasily. No one seemed to notice. The other patrons at the bar either too busy staring down into their own drinks or flat out drunk in the dark corners. Donald swiped a towel across the counter; hard, busy swipes to cover up his nerves.

"Where the hell you get those?" he muttered to Beca, who was trying to knot the string up. She was all thumbs; shaken by Donald freaking up on her. She got it at the third try while Donald watched on, and then surreptitiously tucked the slim packet back into her coat.

"Beca?" Donald prompted, still waiting for an answer.

She brushed her hair back before nervously tugging the ends of her brown hair, not answering. Donald shook his head in exasperation.

"Wherever you found it, put it back," he muttered fiercely. "Better still, get rid of it."

"I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" Donald replied. His voice rose an octave and a few heads turned their way. Donald plastered a fake smile on, pretending nothing was amiss and soon those head turned back to their beers. Donald's smile slipped and he went back to wiping the counter with a vengeance.

"I can't get rid of them, Donald," Beca spoke quietly.

"If you know what's good for you -" he was saying now.

"They were Nathan's."

Donald's hand stopped in mid swipe. Beca watched as Donald froze. His jaw ticked twice before he resumed his cleaning, slower and more deliberate this time. It was not until she was halfway through her beer that Donald spoke to her again.

"He left it for you?"

Beca shook her head.

"You know he won't do that. He wouldn't want anyone else to get into trouble," she said. "I found them. I just...I don't know. It's important. These were important to him. And I just thought I could do something -"

"Don't," Donald warned. "He kept you out of it for the longest time, Beca. To protect you. Keep it that way."

"You don't understand - " Beca argued back.

"I understand a lot of things," Donald answered. "These things are illegal. I know you are more than a little curious about this. If you think you can use Nate's stuff to -"

"I didn't get to bury him, Don," Beca interrupted softly. " I didn't get to bury my own brother."

That silenced the bespectacled man. The heartbreak was apparent in that simple statement and Donald's mouth fell shut. He knew Beca for the longest time and she was too tough to cry in front of him. This was as close as it could get.

"If you think this is about me, you're wrong," Beca insisted. "I just want something that belonged to Nate for the service next week. This is all I have." She swallowed once, trying to keep the catch out of her voice. "Please. I don't know who else could help."

Donald did not reply. Someone thirsty for a drink was trying to catch his eye and he hurried over to take down the orders. For the rest of the night, he did not come near and Beca was left alone to finish her beer.

She should have known Donald wouldn't help.

No one would.

What she had, folded and tucked in her coat, those dirty musical notes scribbled by hand, was contraband. Unsanctioned music was illegal. Had been for ages. Tried as she could, Beca could not remember when and why. Maybe if she had paid more attention in history class she would, but all she knew and everyone else too, music was illegal.

It was not that they didn't have music. They have. Even at this moment, the jukebox at the corner was spitting out some bland noise. Sanctioned noise. Noise that had been churned out by the Factory, had met the Corporation's approval and deemed suitable and safe for the masses. It was the free-styling, the rhymes and the beats, messy unregulated music that was outlawed. The Corporation had clamped down on that nonsense for decades. No one was allowed to make music unless they were card-carrying member of the Factory. Anyone caught doing so or in possession of, served harsh sentences. She was probably looking at upwards of five to ten years for what she had on her.

Beca loved her brother and she knew Nathan was in deep. He was always feverishly scribbling on whatever he could lay his hands on, humming out loud absentmindedly which could have gotten him into so much trouble. But her older brother did not care. Life was hard. Music was the only thing that made Nathan happy.

He dealt too.

Beca was sure Nathan had been dealing on the side. Because suddenly they could make rent month after month without the usual scrimp and save and worry. Because the pantry and the fridge were full of food for once. Because she found that pair of trainers she had been coveting from the shop window for three months, next to her bed one morning. She had been a little afraid for him but dare not ask, dare not to tell him to stop. And now it was too late.

Beca stared at what was left of her beer, wondering what she was going to do next.

"You done?" Donald loomed over her, disapproval still etched on his face. Beca nodded, hastily finishing up her drink. She reached into the pocket of her jeans for a few bills and placed the notes next to her empty glass. She was already a few steps away when Donald called out.

"Hey, you forgot your change!"

That couldn't be right. She left a tip, like all good customers do, but Beca backtracked to where she was sitting at the bar.

"Here," Donald said, shoving the bills back into her hand.

She looked down.

"Don't say a word," Donald swiftly whispered. "I know a guy. He's dangerous but he might be able to help. I need to contact him first so hang on to that number."

Beca nodded mutely.

"I'm doing this because of Nathan," Donald hissed. " - but if you know what's good for you, just get rid of that damn thing."

* * *

 **A few days later**

It was a little earlier than he liked.

He never met anyone this early and face to face; especially if it was new client. The bulk of his business was done by phone or through a third party. This was a rare exception. Jesse leaned backed into his seat, his hand wrapped round the takeaway cup of coffee in front of him. The warmth seeped into his hand, taking away the chill. He couldn't quite control his yawn and Jesse rubbed one side of his face hard.

It was definitely too freaking early.

Last night had been more than a handful. The underground club got busted as usual but Jesse was smart enough to know when to make his exit. He had to pay handsomely for that inside info about the raid. It was expensive but Jesse was wise enough to know that was all part of his business cost.

 _I'm getting far too old for this_ \- he thought to himself, taking a sip of the strong, black coffee.

Twenty four was not that old but he had been dealing for some time. Since he was twelve actually. In the early days, the Corporation had turned a blind eye, making it much easier to do business. But now? It was getting crazy. All the raids, all the harsh penalties, all the jail sentences that would have only been a mild warning years ago. But worse of all, was the rumours. Rumours of dealers found dead at the bottom of the river, at the clubs slumped over their money, at their own freaking homes with their throats slit. Those were the lucky ones. At least their bodies were found.

He should really go home.

He was tired and for some reason this morning, a little emotional. That was not good for business. Jesse would have stood up this appointment if he had not remembered it was Donald who asked him for this favour. He owed Donald and Jesse was the type who did not like to owe anyone. It was a small favour apparently. He just had to meet up with this girl and if he didn't want to help, that was fine according to Donald.

Well, the girl'd better hurry up.

Jesse had glanced at his phone, noting she was late. He didn't like waiting and Jesse was on his feet ready to leave when he saw her. She was standing at the mouth of the alleyway opposite the cafe. He had deliberately arranged it that way. He wanted to size this newbie up before deciding anything. It was only good business sense.

She was small.

That much he could tell from where he was standing.

Tiny. Petite really.

Dressed in skinny jeans and a hoody far too large for her. The trainers were new and very expensive. Not at all in line with the scuffed jeans and the faded hoody. He couldn't quite see her face. It was half covered by the sunglasses she was wearing and she had that Super Mario cap pulled down a little low. Obviously she didn't want anyone to recognise her.

Was she even legal? He could not into a hella lot of trouble if she wasn't.

No.

He knew Donald. Donald wouldn't pull that shit on him.

Jesse remembered the quick conversation he had with the girl on the phone. She had been tough talking but he could detect that slight tinge of nervousness. That he had found intriguing. And her voice... how would he describe her voice? Jesse mulled over that, almost laughing to himself. He could not believe it was beyond his ability to describe the tone of her voice. He, of all people, should know. But one thing was for sure; he wouldn't mind hearing that voice again.

With that thought, Jesse tossed the empty coffee cup into the nearest bin, crossed the street and walked towards the girl. She looked up when he stopped near her.

"Hey," he said. "Beca?"

Yeah. Her name was a little unique. Jesse remembered that too.

She nodded a little uncertainly. "Jesse?"

"That's me," Jesse replied. "Donald said you needed some help. What can I do for you?"

The girl was glancing around nervously, biting her lower lip. She thrust her hands deeper into her pockets.

 _Jeez, great_ \- Jesse thought, a little sourly - _This is what happens when you deal with a newbie. I bet she didn't even know what she wants._

"Relax. The place's clean," Jesse said in an attempt to assure her. "Just tell me what you want. Punk, rock, emo? Maybe some ska?"

She was still not talking and Jesse was getting impatient. The more he was out here in the open talking about business, the more exposed he was. He also didn't like to waste time.

"You want something older? Maybe a bit of disco?" he prompted. "That one's gonna cost you. I have to dig deep into the archives for that one."

"No.. " she finally spoke up. "I don't..."

"Donald said you needed something."

"Yes."

"Well, hurry up and spit it out. I haven't got all day."

"Do we have to do it here?"

She was looking at him now but Jesse could not make out the expression in her eyes. Those huge sunglasses were in the way.

"Yes, we have to do it here," Jesse snapped a little irritably. "You tell me what you want. I tell you how much. If the price fits, we'll negotiate delivery."

"I don't want any of those things," she replied back, equally sharp. "I'm not... I'm not a user. I have this...thing." She broke off, sounding a little frustrated. "Look, it's easier if I show you."

She drew her hand out of her pocket, unzipped her hoody and delved inside. For a moment, all of Jesse's senses were on alert and almost as quickly, his right arm swept his jacket aside, his hand inches from his gun.

There was no need.

The girl took out a slim leather packet. Jesse watched as the girl bowed her head over it, concentrating hard. She did not even noticed Jesse breathing out slowly relaxing his stance; she was too busy unpicking the cord binding the packet. That had been slightly unnerving. He must too wired up after last night. There was no way this tiny girl was any harm. Look at her clumsily trying to undo that thing. She took off her sunglasses jamming it on top of her cap as she continued trying to open the leather folder.

Jesse groaned inwardly.

What the hell had Donald sent his way? Not someone trying to push something new into the market? Those were the worst. Jesse had lost count of how many times some clueless idiot try to interest him in some new material. Most of the time it was not very good. Terrible even. He couldn't push something like that. He pushed known stuff, safe stuff. Old stuff the Corp had banned. Not stupid new material that some wannabe thought was the next big thing.

"Hey, whatever you have, I'm sure it's.. umm... good - " Jesse started. He will let this girl down easy, as a favour to Donald. "But I don't deal with this kind of thing - "

"Shit. This stupid thing is hard to open as fuck," she swore. The knot finally came loose and the folder opened in her hands. She looked up and for the first time, Jesse saw her eyes.

Blue.

Her eyes were cornflower blue.

"I can't read any of this. Donald said you can help."

Jesse's attention snapped back. He dragged his eyes away, looking down at what she was holding in her hands. Papers. Scraps some of them. Filled with musical notes. His eyes flew across, picking up each sound, each nuance, each timbre and Jesse immediately fell back, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. You've got the wrong guy," he stuttered. "I can't help you with this."

* * *

 _Like hell he couldn't._

Beca felt like screaming. Because this guy, who was suddenly in a big hurry to leave, knew exactly how to decipher these notes and he could help. He just fucking didn't want to. He didn't even say goodbye, turning on his heels and walking away far too quickly.

"Hey, wait up!" Beca shouted. She hurriedly shoved the packet into her back pocket.

He ignored her, speeding up. She had to stop him. Damn these short legs. They were no match for his longer ones. He was already looking around for a cab. She got to catch him before he jumps into a cab or she would never see him again. So Beca did the only thing that came to her mind.

She ran, tackled him round the waist and screamed.

"What are you doing?" Jesse shouted back, nearly falling backwards. He found his footing and tried to untangle her arms around his waist. What the fuck is this girl up to? And damn, why was her grip so strong?

"I'm sorry! I'm lying," Beca sobbed dramatically. "I'm not pregnant."

"Wha -"

"I love you. Please don't leave me."

"Let go of me!" Jesse said in terror. He was still trying to push her away.

"I'll change. I promise I'll change," Beca was crying now. "I'll wear those things you want me to wear. You can tie me up and whip me. I'll let you do all those things you like to me. I'll be so good. I won't flinch, I promise," Her sobs went up a notch as she tightened her hold round him. "Please! Just don't leave me."

"For fuck's sake, let go! You crazy bi-"

"Is everything ok here?"

Jesse stopped in mid tirade. Beca's star turn had attracted a little attention from a police officer standing nearby. Jesse was suddenly aware of the heat he was packing and those papers Beca had with her. Beca was still sobbing, her arms locked around his waist, her face pressed against his chest. The crazy bitch was probably not thinking how much trouble she was in right now.

"Please don't leave me," Beca drew back, her voice catching pitifully. "I don't care if the belt hurts. I don't have anywhere else to go -" She broke down into noisy tears.

"Ma'am," the officer called out, coming nearer. "Are you ok?"

 _Fuck this sneaky bitch_ \- Jesse thought angrily. He quickly fixed a grim smile on his face. "Everything's ok, officer. Just a little spat."

"I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to this lady here," the officer replied. "Ma'am?"

"Honey -" Jesse urged, through gritted teeth. He untangled Beca's arms from around his waist and spun her round. "The officer is talking to you."

"I'm fine," Beca sobbed. "I'm ok."

"She's fine. We're just had a little fight," Jesse said, squeezing Beca's shoulder, just a tad too tight. He need to get out of here fast. They need to get away before the officer got more suspicious. "We're just on our way home now."

The police officer beadily stared at Jesse who now had one arm wrapped round Beca's waist. Beca chose that moment to wipe her arm across her streaming eyes and nose, pushing the sleeve of her hoody up. The officer's gaze fell on her exposed forearm and immediately swung back to Jesse. Jesse followed suit and he physically flinched. There were fading bruises on her arm and an angry looking welt on her wrist.

"I'm going to need your names," the officer said. "And I am going to escort both of you home."

* * *

Great. Just great.

He got the fucking police right at his doorstep.

Jesse peered out of his window, grunting a little. That police officer was still there. After Beca's histrionic display, Jesse had no choice but to hail a cab, bundled that insane girl inside and gave the address to his apartment. The police officer had escorted them home and now he was outside, lounging on his bike for the last half an hour. Must be a slow crime day.

Jesse impatiently tapped his fingers on the window sill. This was all that crazy girl's fault. He should have gone with his instincts and stood her up. He could have just told Donald sorry, he was not up for it. But no...he decided to give that girl hobbit a chance and looked where that got him.

He irritably glanced towards the sofa.

She was still there, sitting with her legs folded close to her chest, trying to occupy as little space as possible. They had not spoken a word. She might have twigged that this was the worst possible thing that she could have done and had thankfully not said anything. All through the taxi ride, she had looked out of the window while he looked the opposite way and when they reached his place, Jesse had sullenly let her in.

The implicit understanding was she would stay until the policeman was gone. How was Jesse to know that the officer was going to hang around that long? He had work to do, for God's sake. A request list a mile long. That would take him hours to finish. And that was not counting all the legwork he had to do with the more esoteric stuff like first press jazz recordings and musicals by the original Broadway cast. And all the drop offs to his clients today. The last thing Jesse needed was a policeman at his doorstep and this stubbon, bat shit crazy girl on his sofa. He had to get rid of her fast.

"Making yourself comfortable there?" Jesse spoke up, sarcasm dripping from his tone. Her head snapped up and Jesse found her distracting blue eyes scrutinising him.

"By all means, make yourself at home," Jesse continued. He rose up to his feet and spanned his arms wide. "Put on my tshirt. Eat my food. Get yourself a pet. After all, you're my girlfriend."

All he got in response was a scoff.

"Have you ever thought how my real girlfriend would feel if she walks into this?" Jesse was ranting now. "How could I explain having a cop outside on my doorstep and a crazy little bitch sitting on my sofa? How?"

"Shut up!" Beca flared up. "YOU are the one being a little bitch here!"

She had had enough. She knew what she did was probably not the wisest thing to do. It did not take brains to work out that antagonising the only person that could help her was probably the stupidest thing she could have ever done. But Beca Mitchell was desperate.

"I don't know why you are being mean," she shouted back. "I totally saved your ass back there."

The look of surprise on his face was comical and she would have laughed if the situation was very different.

"Oh. You helped me?" Jesse was saying, towering over her now. "You. Helped. Me? Back there? When was that exactly? When you practically pushed me to the ground? When you made me sound like some S&M sicko who whips girls for fun?"

She was staring daggers at him.

"I think you are deluded. What kind of drugs are you on, huh?" Jesse's rant continued. "If anything, I was the one who helped you. Do you know how many years of jail you've just avoided?"

"You had a gun! I could feel it when I had my arms around you," Beca hollered back. "No one innocently carries a gun. How are you going to explain that to the police officer, huh?"

Jesse opened his mouth to rebutt that and then snapped his mouth shut.

That was some truth in that.

No.

Scratch that.

She was still at fault. He wouldn't have attracted that policeman's attention if Beca had not gone through all that dramatics. This girl was trouble and the earlier he get rid of her, the better.

"Just go home," Jesse barked out at her. "Whichever shitty hovel you crawl out from, just go back there, ok?"

"Yeah.. well.."

Beca looked away, her mouth in a tight, grim line. She plucked her sleeve down self consciously and Jesse noticed how frayed that sleeve was looking. She had removed her ridiculous cap, her brunette hair now bouncing down her shoulders. Beca was tugging the ends of her hair. It looked like it needed a good wash. She looked like she needed a good wash. And for the first time, he noticed how red rimmed her eyes were like she had been crying. How pale and pinched her face was; like perhaps she had not had a good, warm meal for days. She did have a home to go back to, right? She was kidding when she said she had nowhere to go to just now? Right?

His thoughts were halted because Beca stood up, rising up to her full height.

All five feet nothing of her.

"I'll get out of your hair soon, I promise," she was saying now, her hand reaching for her back pocket. "I just need your help with -"

"Fuck. Is that all you care about?" Jesse yelled out. "That dumb music you're carrying around like some fucking candy? Have you any idea how much trouble - You know what? You probably don't. Fuck it. Let me see that damn thing."

Jesse never really knew why he caved in. He just wanted to get rid of her and if what it took was for him to read some music, he'll do it in a heart beat. He was tearing at the packet as soon as she brought it out. Jesus, she was right. This stupid thing was hard to open as fuck. Jesse was impatiently ripping at the cord when Beca shouted at him.

"Hey! HEY! Be careful with that."

All she got back a derisive snort. But when she thought she heard a rip, Beca could not stand it any longer. She lunged forward, trying to snatch those papers from his hands. Jesse took a step back, raising the folder higher, just out of her reach, still rifling through the pages. Beca grunted in frustration.

"Give it back!" she bristled at the taller man.

"What? This rubbish?"

"They're not rubbish!"

"Yeah sure -" Jesse said mockingly. And he would have mocked her even more if she had not landed that left hook on his face. And that knee into his groin.

That fucking hurt.

Jesse doubled up in pain, dropping the papers. His jaw was sore and don't even talk about that throbbing in his groin. It took several minutes before the pain subsided. He was ready to yell at her. He was ready to pick her up by the scrub of her dirty hoody and throw her out of the door. He didn't care if the policeman came running. She had just kneed him in the balls, for fuck's sake. He should get her arrested.

But that yell didn't materialised.

Because Jesse found her sitting back down on the sofa, her face pale with worry. She was cradling the leather folder in her arm, frantically trying to put the parchment in order. The pages had been messed up when it fell down. She was attempting to put them in back in the right order but was having difficulty doing so. She kept looking at the pages, switching them around, unsure, and her frustration was mounting. A few of the pages were crumpled with corners torn and she was desperately trying to smooth them down with her palm. It was like watching a small child in near tears, trying to fix a favourite toy.

Then she raised her eyes to meet his.

So much hate. So much anger.

And there was something else he couldn't quite make out.

Grief. Frustration. Loss. Maybe all three.

He had never seen anyone with so much feelings in their eyes.

"You -" she stuttered out angrily. "You have no right. NO fucking right to be this fucking disrespectful!" She was stuffing the papers back into her hoody, getting up to her feet. "If you don't want to help me, fine! Why do you have to - Fuck this! I don't need you."

Beca was halfway to the door when she felt his hand closing on her arm. She was about to jerk her arm free when his hold tightened.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry"

Beca pulled away and he let go this time.

"I... I shouldn't have done that," Jesse apologised. "I'm sorry."

She jammed her cap down lower so he couldn't see the expression on her face but it was too late. He could already make out the way her mouth quivered and how she was clamping down hard to keep herself from crying. Shit, what had he done?

"Let me look at them," he was saying now. "I promise I'll be respectful."

No answer.

"You can put them on the counter over there," Jesse suggested, pointing at the bar he had at the corner of his apartment. "I won't even touch them."

Those eyes were scrutinising him again. She had every reason to be suspicious. His behaviour was appalling. The girl might be batshit crazy but she deserved to be treated with respect. For a long moment, Jesse thought she might lashed out at him again but she appeared to change her mind. She casted one more look at him before going over to the counter.

Beca slowly took out the sheets, carefully spreading them out on the counter and Jesse waited until she raised her eyes towards him before coming over.

 _This fucker better not do anything funny -_ Beca scowled. She watched Jesse like a hawk as his eyes slowly scanned through the scribbles on the sheets. Those were the only thing of value she had of Nathan. For the umpteenth time, Beca wished she knew what those notes meant. She wouldn't have to stoop so low if she did.

Donald was right.

This guy was an asshole.

You wouldn't think he was a sick bastard, just by looking at him. He wore plaid, for fuck's sake. Converse sneakers and jeans that fit him really well. And a nice jacket which hid the gun he had stowed at his back. That was probably the only edgy thing about him. To be honest, Beca didn't know what she was expecting before she met Jesse Swanson. She definitely didn't expect someone this young with all that dark, unruly hair and those freaking brown eyes that looked like a puppy's.

Asshole.

If he thought he could do what he like, he got another thing coming. Beca Mitchell would not stop at just a knee in his groin. So far he was keeping to his words. He had his hand stuffed into his jeans but the longer he was scanning through the pages, the more thoughtful he looked. He was rubbing his chin now, scratching his stubble and when his hand rested lightly at the edge of the counter, Beca drew a sharp breath.

Jesse looked up.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing towards the papers. "I'll be gentle. I promise."

Beca's eyes skittered over the pages lying on the counter and she finally nodded. Jesse picked up a few sheets. rearranging their running order before scanning through them again. His fingers were tapping on the counter and Beca heard the way he softly hummed to himself. It brought memories of Nathan doing the same and that brought up a fresh welling of pain in her chest. She had to look away to keep her feelings in check.

His fingers had stopped tapping on the counter.

"You wrote this?" Jesse asked.

Beca scowled. Was he mocking her again?

"I can't even read these damn things," she snarled back. "What made you think I wrote them?"

"Sorry. Should've thought about that," Jesse replied. He went back to being preoccupied with the score, turning over two more pages. "If you didn't write it, where did it come from?'

"I didn't steal it, if that's what you mean!"

"I didn't say you did!" Jesse countered back, frowning. Boy, was this girl touchy. "Look, if you want me to handle this, I got to know where it came from."

Beca bit her lower lip, unsure now.

"It was my brother's," she confessed. "He wrote it."

"Your brother wrote this?" Jesse asked. At her nod, he merely grunted, turning his attention back to the music. "It's not half bad."

The score were pulling him in and Jesse couldn't help humming a little bit louder. The song was bloody brilliant actually. If he could just play it, maybe add a little bit more here and fuck, this needs to be re-arranged. He could imagine perhaps a counter melody here would work. Maybe this could be a two part harmony -

He was roused back to reality when he heard a choking sound. Jesse looked up from the sheets he was holding in his hands to find Beca staring up at him. He was confused by how shiny her eyes looked.

"What?" Jesse frowned.

Beca worked her jaw once, twice before taking a deep breath. "Is that what it sounds like?"

"What? These?" Jesse replied, still confused.

"You..you were singing," Beca said. "These things? Is that what they sound like?"

Jesse glanced down at the score before returning his gaze to Beca.

"You really can't read these, huh?"

"No." She shook her head. "Nathan's the one knows this kind of stuff. I asked him to teach me, like a million times, but he always said no."

"Wait, isn't your surname Mitchell?" Jesse asked, remembering how she introduced herself during the phone call. "And your brother's Nathan? Nathan Mitchell's your brother?"

"You know my brother?"

"Yeah, sure. Big Nate Mitchell," Jesse replied.

Now that the realisation hit him, Jesse saw the resemblance. Why didn't he see it before? Same dark hair, same pale skin but she was much smaller and grumpier the her older brother. Same blue eyes. No, her eyes were prettier. Much, much prettier.

Big Nate Mitchell.

Small time dealer, very passionate about music. Who knew he wrote music? And who knew he had such a hot sister? Jesse cleared his throat when that thought crossed his mind.

"I bumped into him from time to time," he casually said. "Haven't seen him in ages. How's the big man?"

That was the precise moment Jesse knew he put his foot in his mouth. Because he could see how Beca's eyes just went dull. Like a light had been snuffed out.

"Nathan's dead. He died two weeks ago."

Fuck.

He really did it this time.

Jesse sometimes thought he never really think things through and this was a prime example. Of course, something must have happened to her brother. Of course. If she had to practically begged for help to decipher these notes, there must be something really wrong. Her over protectiveness on these scraps of paper made perfect sense now.

"I'm sorry," Jesse apologised. "He was really nice. I liked him."

That sounded fucking hollow. He hated the way those words sounded coming out of his mouth. There was only stony silence from Beca. She didn't elaborate further how Nathan died and Jesse didn't want to pry. His fingers traced a row of notes on the sheets in front of him. The song was really beautiful and damn, not that he was being a softie, but Jesse felt he had to help her somehow.

"How much you want for this?" Jesse asked.

That seemed to snapped Beca out of her trance "Excuse me?"

"This music. How much?" Jesse repeated. "That's why you wanted to meet up, wasn't it? I don't usually handle this stuff but I'll make you a fair offer."

"No. It's not for sale," Beca said. She began to panic, hastily gathering the sheets together. She can never sell this. It belonged to Nathan. It was probably the last thing that he wrote. Why would this evil bastard think she was going to sell something as precious as this? He must be crazy -

"Stop."

Beca looked down at the counter, at Jesse's hands which were now on top of hers.

"Calm down for a sec." he was saying as gently as possible. "Please explain to me why you're doing this. What happened to Nathan? Why is this so important? If you don't want to sell, what do you want to do with this?"

He heard that wretched sigh first before she pulled her hands free from underneath his.

"Nathan.. He..." Beca said slowly. She stopped for a minute. "The house... It burned to the ground with everything and everyone in it. I only have this because I took this hoody, Nathan's hoody, before I left the house for work. These papers were in the pocket."

She thrust her fists into the too big hoody.

"We didn't have a proper funeral. There was nothing left to bury," she mumbled in a near whipser. "But I'm doing a memorial service for Nathan in a week. Just a few close friends. I was hoping I can have his music playing, you know, as a tribute."

Jesse stared as Beca bowed her head over the sheets.

"You said you don't know music," he spoke. "How are you going to play this?"

"I can't read the notes but I have a good memory," she replied. "And I can sing. I just need someone to play these for me. I can do the rest."

As if to demonstrate what she saying was true, Beca lifted her head began to sing back a few snatches of what he had sung earlier. It was note perfect.

He was staring.

He knew that.

It was hard not to. Sure she looked like a scrappy little nobody in her scruffy get up, but when she lifted her head and opened her mouth, and that beautiful, soulful voice poured out, she looked...different. He could not look away even if he wanted to. And what she was willing to chance, what she was willing to go through, just for her brother -

An urgent buzz on his phone reminded Jesse of the time. He cursed under his breath, taking out his phone from his pocket and reading the incoming messages. Jesse typed a reply before slipping the phone back. Hisi hand closed around Beca's wrist, more firmly this time.

"Come with me."

* * *

 **AN :** _I know. I know... Why the hell am I starting a new story? This one's gonna be short, I promised, and not fluffy. I have to write it because plot bunnies are savage little things._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Why the hell am I coming with you?"

Beca tried shaking herself free but Jesse had a strong grip on her upper arm. She couldn't quite worked out how she ended up following him. The bastard must be a hynoptist. Or a vampire. Only reason why she found herself agreeing to come with him. They had just come out of the elevator and Jesse was propelling her towards the exit of his apartment building.

"Your little dramatics this morning put me off my schedule," Jesse muttered angrily. "I wasn't about to leave you in my apartment alone. So like it or not, you're coming with me." They were out of the door and onto the pavement and Jesse looked across the street. Yep. The police officer was still there. "Now smile and wave hello to your little friend over there," Jesse ordered. "Or -"

"Or what?" Beca hissed back fiercely.

"Or you'll never see Nathan's music again," Jesse threatened back. Beca was scoffing under her breath and Jesse quirked an eyebrow at her. "Just so you know, music is not my only talent, baby," he drawled. "My fingers are pretty nifty too."

Beca quickly patted her pockets. She had shoved the folder in there just now when Jease was hustling her out of the door. She looked up in horror to find Jesse smirking down triumphantly at her.

"Now play nice If you want those pages back," he said.

"You sick piece of shit -" Beca spluttered out.

"Be nice, honey." Jesse's voice was sickly sweet and his grip on her upper arm tightened.

She had no choice. So Beca turned towards the police officer, tossed her hair back over her shoulder and gave him a dazzling smile. She waved and after a beat, the police officer waved back shyly. Beca turned back to Jesse, that dazzling smile still intact. And then she let it slipped, replacing it with a surly scowl.

"Good enough for you?" Beca muttered.

Jesse didn't answer and she cocked her head to one side. What was the weird expression on his face? Did he look stunned? He looked stunned. Whatever. Beca pulled herself free from his grip, walking slightly ahead of him. Oh, she'll play nice alright. She'll play nice and bide her time until she could shaft him. Sick son of a bitch.

"What we doing now?" she said, looking over her shoulder at him.

Jesse was still frozen to the spot with that stupid, dazed expression on his face. But he shook himself a little, finally making a move. He drew alongside Beca, frowning down at her.

"Eat." he said curtly. "I could use a burger. Right about now."

* * *

 _Wow, she's really hungry_.

His own burger was held halfway up his mouth as Jesse watched Beca demolished hers. She must have not drawn a breath since that burger was laid in front of her. The place was nothing fancy. Just a diner Jesse frequent. He knew the guy in the kitchen plus they had all these old-fashioned booths which guaranteed some privacy. The food was alright but the way Beca was eating, it was like some Michelin star restaurant and she was eating the best burger in the world. Ever. Beca was now stuffing chips into her mouth, between taking big bites of the burger.

"Whoa, slow down," Jesse reprimanded. "That thing's dead. It's not going to run away."

Beca seemed to realise how crudely she was scoffing the food and two red spots of embarrassment bloomed on her cheeks. She hastily put the burger back on her plate and removed her hands from the table.

"I didn't say stop eating. Why did you stop?" Jesse commented. Beca was staring down at the food, looking self-conscious all of a sudden. _God, she's so stubborn._ "I just don't want you to choke," he said. "That's all. Here, drink something."

Jesse pushed the tall glass of iced towards her.

"Sorry," Beca spoke up. "I'm not usually this crude."

"You're hungry. I get it," Jesse replied. "When's the last time you had a proper meal?"

Beca shrugged.

"It's hard to cook at the hostel," she said. "It's a shared kitchen, and I've been busy."

Jesse carefully chewed the next bite carefully before speaking up.

"You stay in a hostel?"

She was swirling the straw in her drink, not looking up.

"Yeah. Down by 22nd," Beca answered. "Don't judge. It's only until I get myself sorted out."

He knew the area. Not the most salubrious part of town. Dotted with sleazy massage parlours, triple x-rated DVD stores, dirt cheap hostels probably violating a hundred health and safety codes. It was the type of area for druggies, girls that needed to rent rooms by the hour. That sort of people. But she didn't look like either.

"No family?" he queried. At the vague shake of her head, Jesse asked. "Friends? How about Donald?"

"I didn't want to trouble them. Life is hard for everyone at the moment."

He nodded and silence lapsed between them. Jesse was nearly finishing his meal when he noticed hers now laid untouched. She was still playing with the straw but Jesse saw the glances she threw at the fries.

"Why didn't you eat?" Jesse scolded. "I thought you were hungry."

"I just want you to know Nate raised me well," Beca replied, her tone almost haughty. "I don't want you to think he didn't teach me any manners."

"You know what? I couldn't care less what Nathan taught you. I just want you to eat up." Jesse interrupted. He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, scrunched it up and threw it down onto his plate. "So can you _please_ finish up the fries so we can get going?"

"Ok. Fine. Stop shouting at me." she grumbled, picking up one of the cold fries.

Jesse watched her as he drank up his coffee. She nibbled on the food; none of the voracious appetite he saw before. He really couldn't work out what's the deal with her.

"Nathan raised you, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah." came the curt reply.

"Since how old?"

Beca threw his a suspicious look. "None of your business. Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious."

She seemed to turn that phrase in her head.

"Since I was thirteen. Nathan was eighteen. Our parents died in a car accident."

"Stayed in the city all your life?"

"No. We moved here 'cos that's where the work is. We're doing ok."

"Until two weeks ago." Jesse said knowingly.

Beca rubbed her arm over her eyes. "Yeah. Until two weeks ago."

"What happened?"

Her eyes were narrowed at him. Beca pushed her plate away and wiped her mouth clean. "I'm done," she said. "We can go now."

"You didn't answer my question," Jesse stated matter-of-factly. He leaned back in his seat, in no hurry to leave now

"Why are you so interested?" she scowled. "The police wasn't."

"So it wasn't an accident."

Beca eyed Jesse warily. This guy was a complete weirdo. Look at him, just sitting there, all cool and collected, putting words in her mouth. Donald did say he was dangerous and maybe she should have steered clear of him. But he had Nathan's music now and like it or not, she had to stick with him.

"It was no accident," Beca grudgingly.

"Why did you say that?"

"I was at work when Nathan rang me ," Beca replied. "The reception's shocking. I can't quite make out what he was saying." She was silent for a moment, seeming to struggle. "The last I heard was him yelling at me not to come home and then the line went dead."

"What did you do?"

"I freaked out and went home."

Jesse shook his head.

"You shouldn't have," he said. "It could've been dangerous."

"Maybe. But it was too late anyway," she said, taking a sip of the iced tea. Beca turned to look out of the window. "The whole place was in flames when I got there."

* * *

"What's your address? I'm dropping you off."

They were outside the diner and Jesse had just hailed down a cab

"No, I'm coming with you."

Jesse was too busy replying to an urgent message he wasn't really listening. His phone had been pinging non-stop since just nowand he should really get going. If he ask the cabdriver to go down 5th and cut across town, he could get rid of this girl and be at his first appointment in half an hour. It took several minutes before her words registered and they were already in the cab, heading down to 22nd.

"What did you say just now?"

"I said I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not." Jesse scoffed back.

Beca eyed him warily. "Are you going to give me Nathan's stuff back?"

"No."

"Then I'm coming with you," she insisted stubbornly. "I might be useful. Just let me come along."

The dark haired man beside her barked out in disbelief.

"What's so funny?" Beca riled up crossly.

He was laughing. The stupid fucker was still laughing at her.

"You know what? You can come," Jesse said, clearly amused now. He spoke to the driver, giving him a new address before turning back to Beca. "You think it's going to be a walk in the park? Let's see how you keep up."

* * *

She should twigged when he gave the driver the address.

She should have fucking known where he was heading because what the hell has she got herself into? Beca looked up apprehensively at the tall building looming in front of her. She was halfway out of the cab, ass still on the seat, one foot out on the clean pavement, staring up at the grand entrance of this hotel. When he said he had a drop off, she had envisioned some dark alleyway, maybe a little secret room with some shady types. She could deal with that. She was tough enough to roll with that.

But this was entirely different.

She never had any business in this part of town. It was just too... rich. Like this hotel right in front of her right now. The entrance was all gleaming brass and glass and there was even a doorman standing on attention, in some ridiculous maroon get-up with more golden braids she had seen in her life. And a hat. The dude was wearing a funny hat.

Jesse had paid the driver and was already glancing impatiently at her. "Well?"

Beca squared her jaw and stepped out of the cab. He didn't wait. He was already walking ahead and she followed him up the few steps lined with a red carpet. The doorman snapped attentively, holding the door open and Jesse strolled inside. Beca could sense the doorman's eyes on her, no doubt checking out her less than ideal attire.

"Nice hat," she said loudly to the doorman, giving him a deliberate wink.

The doorman harumphed and mumbled something that sounded a cross between sorry and have a good day, ma'am. She was about to laugh out loud but Beca was stunned into silence as soon as she stepped into the lobby. As if the exterior wasn't grand enough to make her feel shabby, the lobby made her feel she should really go through the staff entrance. Fresh flowers, deep pile carpet, lots of polished wood and mahogany. They even have a freaking chandelier. A huge, crystal monstrosity dripping down from the ceiling and was that a waterfall on one wall?

"Hey."

Beca whirled round so fast she nearly knocked into Jesse. He had his phone jammed to his ear and was frowning at her. "You done looking?"

"Yeah..." she answered but Jesse was already turning away, talking quietly into his phone.

And now what the hell was she supposed do?

They were seated in a lounge, being served afternoon tea. Beca was perched at the edge of a burgundy sofa, trying not to look too awkward. The cushions were so soft Beca felt she could sink into it for days and no one would find her. There was this shiny glass table in front of them and a fussy waiter had came over with fussy cups and fussy plates and there was this tiered thing filled with fussy looking cakes. Beca glanced over to Jesse, who was lounging on the sofa opposite, looking so at ease, talking to his clients.

There were two of them.

Dressed almost blonde hair, same camel coloured outfits, same nose jobs, same little yapping dogs. Beca could tell those outfits could possibly be as much as six months salary for her and the diamond collars on the dogs could probably pay her rent for a good few years. But she couldn't care less about that. What she was feeling quite annoyed about was the way the women was throwing glances at her. They didn't even have the courtesy to say hello nor did Jesse introduced her, that fuckboy. And now one of the blondes was leaning forward, pressing her hand lightly on Jesse's arm and whispering flirtatiously to him. They were laughing softly together.

"Madam? What tea would you like?"

Beca swung her head round and stared blankly at the waiter. He was in mid-stoop looking expectantly at her.

"Try the lapsang souchong." Jesse spoke up. He glanced momentarily at Beca. "You'll love it."

She heard the titters. That condescending titters from the two blondes and Beca flushed red. Fuck it. She would not let two blonde plastic bimbos get under her skin. Let them think she was trash. She didn't care.

"No, thank you. I rather have coffee," Beca replied. "Maxwell House. I'm sure you'll have it."

Then she sank back into the sofa, fiddling with her phone, totally ignoring everyone around her. The only time she looked up was to politely say thank you to the waiter when he deferentially set down her coffee in from of her. The coffee wasn't too bad but was it a little warm around here? You would think a smart place like this would have proper temperature control. Beca unzipped her hoody, taking it off, ran her hand through her curls and went back to her phone. She didn't register the momentary silence that ensued as Jesse halted his conversation in mid sentence.

The second time she looked up was when the blonde duo got up and left. Jesse was on his feet, getting ready to leave. Obviously the deal was done. Beca noted the teas and cakes were hardly touched. What a freaking waste. That would have paid for a week's meals but she didn't dwell on that because Jesse was already striding ahead and she needed to keep up. It was not until they were walking on the pavement outside that she muttered angrily under her breath.

"What did you say?" Jesse swung round, sounding irritable. "Can you learn to speak up properly? All this mumbling is very rude."

"Sorry," Beca spat our sarcastically. "I guess I'm not as well bred and well turned out as those two."

Jesse stopped on his tracks, his forehead wrinkled in a frown.

"What the fuck are you saying?"

"I get it," Beca spoke up, her tone getting more belligerent. "I'm scrappy. My clothes are terrible, I'm trash. You don't have to show me up like that. You enjoyed doing that, huh?"

He was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Can you take that chip off you shoulder for a minute?" he argued back, "Not everything is about you, ok? Stop being so fucking self-centred. I've told you I got stuff to do. You insisted on coming along. Deal with it."

God, can she get more annoying? That meeting had been set up for weeks. What did she mean he was showing her up? She needn't have worried about looking out of place. Just her sitting so casually on that sofa, in her torn jeans and expensive sneakers. She looked like she owned the damn place. Jesse was about to say something else when he realised she was no longer paying attention. Beca was glancing behind him.

"We're being followed."

Jesse was about to look back when Beca swiftly pulled him into a walk, urgently whispering to him.

"Don't look. He's wearing a grey beanie. I saw him at your place. And at the diner."

Jesse nodded and they continued up the street. They couldn't double back to the hotel without running into their follower. If they could get their asses into a crowd or jump into a cab, they could possibly shake this goon off but the streets were strangely quiet for the time of the day. Jesse could sense the guy now. He was picking up speed. He could tell by the sounds of heavy footsteps coming closer.

Then Jesse saw the other guy.

Fuck. Of course there would be two of them.

The other one was crossing over from opposite side, cutting straight into their path.

"Jesse Swanson?" the guy called out.

Both Beca and Jesse stood still and then inched closer to each other. He could feel her stiffen up with fright. They were in front of an alleyway and no doubt these two would try to to attack them here. They would be after him. With a quick shove, Jesse pushed Beca away as hard as he could as the two men crowded in.

"Run!"

* * *

 **AN :** _Thank you so much for all your reads, follows and reviews. Really warms the cockles of my cold, cold heart. I know some of you are waiting for updates for my other fics. Thank you for not hating me too much for starting this. Rest assured this one is a short one (I have to satisfy those damn plot bunnies).I will be back writing for the others. I really can't wait for Anna Kendrick's new book. If it's as funny as her tweets, we will be in for a treat._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It should have been a short fight.

One of the thugs grabbed the front of his jacket and Jesse retaliated with a sharp jab with his forearm into the assailant's throat. A kick to the groin and an uppercut and he hit the asphalt. The other guy, Mr. Beanie Hat had came running, trying to pinion Jesse from behind and he jerked his head backwards to shatter the guy's nose before ducking forward, throwing the guy over his shoulder and delivering blow after blow.

It should have been a short fight.

Jesse was more than capable to take care of himself against two men. What he was not expecting was the third to come out of the shadows of the alley behind him. He didn't see him coming and the blow to his head sent Jesse sprawling to the ground.

He tasted blood and he would have gotten up if the behemoth had not quickly pinned him down. The fucker was slamming his head against the concrete. He twisted round. He fought back. He could feel his gun digging into his back.

If only he could reach it.

But Jease felt meaty hands circling his neck, slowly crushing his windpipe and Jesse's fingers scrambled up to break that choke.

He couldn't breath. His lungs were already screaming. He was about to black out when he vaguely heard a shout. Then a dull thud, like metal meeting flesh. The hold round his neck loosened but that fucker's weight was still on him. More thuds. More loud, painful screams that seemed to jar into his brain. He felt a spray of wetness on his face and instantly Jesse knew what it was by the unmistakeable iron smell and how warm it was. It could only mean blood. The fucker on top was bleeding all over him. Then Jesse felt the weight above him shifting and with all the strength he had left, Jesse pushed that fucker off.

He was panting. Trying to drag more air into his lungs. He tried to sit up but everything seemed to swirl around him and Jesse fell back, groaning. The sound of something hollow and metallic hitting the concrete was so, so loud to his ears and Jesse visibly flinched.

Then he felt hands. A small pair of hands holding the sides of his head.

"Dude, you ok?"

 _She's here? Didn't he tell her to run?_ \- Jesse thought. He opened his eyes and Beca's face swam into view. She was staring down at him with those blue eyes. Why were her eyes so blue? She had a red smudge on her cheek and Jesse irrationally thought how beautiful she looked with that smear of fresh red blood against her pale skin. He tried to sit up and this time he could with Beca'a help.

"What are you doing here?" Jesse croaked out hoarsely, gingerly touching his face. He had a split lip, his jaw and cheek hurt like hell, his head felt sore. He was not sure but he might have cracked a rib and why was everything spinning? He slowly got up to his feet and was so fucking annoyed when he nearly topple over and had to lean against Beca.

"You are not ok," Beca said, bracing herself against Jesse's weight. "We need to get you to a hospital and call the police."

Jesse surveyed the carnage before him. He found it hard to focus but he could see the three thugs, down for the count. He wasn't sure whether the third one was alive or dead. He looked beaten about the head and there was a metal pipe, the length of a baseball bat lying near to him, covered with blood.

"No. Not the police." Jesse said slowly. "We've gotta get out of here."

He still couldn't walk without Beca's help. They made it to the main street and Beca desperately looked round for a cab. He was fucking heavy to prop up and she was not entirely sure he was entirely there. Thankfully, she spied one and hastily flagged down the cab. If the driver saw anything strange in a tiny girl trying to hold up a badly beaten up man, he didn't say a word.

"Where to?" the driver asked once she managed to get Jesse into cab.

Beca was at a loss. Where should she take him? She started to give the address to Jesse's apartment when Jesse groaned out in protest. "No. Not there."

"Where you want to go?' Beca quickly asked. He was flopped at the backseat with his eyes closed and Beca tried to rouse him with a shake. "Jesse? Where are we going?"

It took him several seconds before he answered.

"75th and 3rd. Number 46," Jesse slurred out. He tried opening his eyes but they felt so heavy. He knew he was going to pass out. "Bumper." Jesse choked out, desperately scrabbling around for Beca's hand. "I need you to call Bumper."

And then everything went dark.

* * *

This was not exactly how Bumper Allen thought he would spend his weekend.

He had tickets to the ball game and was about to go into the stadium, hands full with hotdog and soda when his phone buzzed. It was Jesse ringing and Bumper had picked up, thinking it was a quick call.

A frantic female voice was on the other line.

He could hardly make head or tail of what she was saying and Bumper had to move to one side, to allow others behind him to go first. A few terse words were exchanged. There was no time for long explanations. They were attacked, she said, Jesse didn't want to go to the hospital nor call the police and he told her to call Bumper before he lost consciousness.

Of course, Bumper had to abandon the game. Jesse Swanson was not only his business partner; he was also his friend. He immediately left, making a quick urgent call to Dr. Krawczyk to attend, before finding his car and driving over to 75th and 3rd. The girl said they were on their way there. Since he was nearer, Bumper reached the location just before the cab screeched to a halt. A tiny brunette spilled out from the cab and taking one glance at Jesse unconscious in the backseat, he wasted no time paying off the driver and helping the girl take Jesse out of the cab.

Yep. Definitely not how he thought he spent his weekend.

Bumper stood in the small kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee to wake himself up. Thank goodness Dr. Krawcyzk had been quick to arrive. He was being paid a lot of money after all and last night he was worth every penny. The doctor had checked Jesse over and said that lucky son of a bitch was going to be ok. Apparently Jesse had a thick skull. The doctor still want Jesse to come down for a scan, just in case, but he was ok to stay home if there was someone to check on him. That was why Bumper was here, drinking this awful coffee in Jesse's kitchen instead of waking up with a hangover, celebrating his team's win.

He was just washing the mug when he heard someone moving in the hallway. Bumper was already pouring Jesse a hot cup of coffee when his friend shuffled into the small kitchen, still looking half asleep.

"Morning," Bumper said blandly, setting the cup of coffee on the counter in front of Jesse. He was answered with a half hearted grunt. He let Jesse took a few sips of the hot liquid before asking. "Rough night?"

Jesse waved the question away, still not totally awake.

"The usual," he muttered. "Nothing happened."

"Nothing happened?" Bumper's eyebrows shot up. "Bro, you were unconscious, bleeding all over the carpets -"

"I'm fine -" Jesse mumbled into his mug.

"- with a busted face -"

"- some guys tried to get my wallet. It was just a robbery -" Jesse mumbled some more.

"Dude, It was not a robbery," Bumper insisted. "They jumped you like you said they would. Plus you came straight here where you know it's safe. Don't tell me nothing happened."

Jesse fell silent, taking another sip of his coffee. He grimaced in pain. His jaw was sore and he still had a light headache. He couldn't remember much about what happened after. Just a vague recollection of Bumper trying to speak to him and the doctor checking him over before he fell in a much needed, dreamless sleep.

" - good thing Beca was with you or the cabdriver would - "

"Beca?" Jess picked up that name in the midst of all of Bumper's clucking.

"Yes, the girl who was with you." Bumper replied. He did not missed the way Jesse was tensing up. "She also said one of those thugs called you by name. So it's definitely not a robbery."

Oh, Jesse knew it wasn't. All those rumours about dealers being killed had been swirling round recently and Jesse was not at all surprised he was on that list.

"Did you give her some money?" Jesse asked instead. "I don't think she had much. 22nd a long way to go by bus."

"That's where you picked her up? Down by 22nd?" Bumper replied, smirking. "Dawg! You're slumming it."

"Don't be a dick, Bumper."

"She's not your usual style, I'm just saying," Bumper continued in the same vein. "You like them glossy and blonde."

Jesse didn't feel well enough that morning to put up with Bumper's shit. He was rubbing his temple, willing his headache to go away.

"Just tell me you paid for her cab," he said.

"There was no need," Bumper replied with a shrug. "She stayed over."

Jesse nearly dropped his coffee.

"You let her stay?" he nearly bellowed out.

"Yes. She's sleeping on the sofa," Bumper answered, looking slightly confused. "It was late. She looked really worried - Jesse, where are you going?"

Jesse was already hurrying out of the kitchen, heading straight for the living room. Just as Bumper said, Beca was curled up, fast asleep under a blanket on the sofa. Jesse stood at the doorway, gazing at the brunette. Her face was scrunched up against the pillow, one pale hand grabbing the blanket in a fist. Her hair was a mess, half covering her face and she had kicked off her trainers, which were lying haphazardly on the floor.

Bumper had now caught up with Jesse.

"Let her sleep, bro," he whispered, standing just behind Jesse. "Doctor Krawcyzk said we should take turns staying up with you. I took the first shift, she took the second. She just fell asleep about an hour ago."

Seeing Jesse was still sullenly gazing at the sleeping brunette, Bumper made a face. He didn't know Jesse would be so pissed off that he let the girl stay but he thought the tiny brunette seemed harmless enough and she had been so worried.

"Ok, fine. I'll wake her up and send her home," Bumper sighed. "How much should I pay her?"

He tried to sidestep round Jesse, only to find his way barred. Jesse was shaking his head slowly now.

"No. She can stay."

* * *

This was so unfair.

How could it that this sofa was even more comfortable than her bed?

Beca was lying on her back, blinking at the ceiling. She had woken up only minutes ago. She was not entirely sure how long she had been asleep. It felt like minutes and all Beca wanted to do now was to roll over and go back to sleep. Last night was a jumble to her tired mind. The attack, her swinging that pipe, busting the head of that idiot trying to kill Jesse and Jesse blacking out on her in the cab. How did her day started with trying to get Nathan's stuff read and ended up with her sleeping on a strange couch?

She should get up.

She should really get going before she outstayed her welcome.

The guy with the weird name. Bumper, was it? Yeah. Bumper. Stroke of luck his name flashed up as Jesse's emergency contact when she got hold of Jesse's phone. Beca wouldn't know what to do if she hadn't be able to get in touch with him. He was a bit of a dick, based on first impressions, but he didn't ask too many questions. Of course, there was the more pressing issue in the shape of an unconscious Jesse Swanson to deal with and clearly Bumper had other priorities than to cross-examine her. But he did let her stay.

Yeah, Bumper was cool.

Beca slowly got up. She folded the blanket carefully, picked up her trainers, dangling them in one hand and padded across the living room into the hallway. Her bare feet didn't made a noise. The whole place seemed too quiet and Beca frowned, a little unsure what she should do next. She just wanted to check everything was ok with Bumper before leaving. Was there someone in the kitchen? She thought she heard someone in the kitchen. Beca was about to stick her head in when Jesse appeared right in front of her.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Beca swore, clumsily dropping her shoes in fright. One of her shoes bounced on her toe and Beca yelped, jumping a little in pain.

"You're awake." Jesse remarked, totally ignoring the fact Beca was now hopping about, clutching her foot. He turned his back to her, moving towards the fridge. "I was about to check on you."

Beca straightened up and limped over to the counter. Stupid fucker. Why did he have to scare her like that? Wasn't he supposed to be in bed? Didn't he have a concussion? Shouldn't he be resting instead of standing there rifling through his cupboards like he didn't get beaten within an inch of his life last night?

"You hungry?" Jesse asked, his back still towards her.

"Wh.." Beca cleared her throat. "What?"

Jesse turned round to face her, a blue box of Kraft's Mac 'n cheese in his hand. "I said are you hungry?" he repeated, a little slower. "I'm low on food. We could have some Mac and cheese and there's apples in the fridge."

"Coffee," Beca croaked out. "I need some coffee."

Jesse put that box of mac and cheese down and turned towards the coffee machine. Soon she could smell a fresh brew and within minutes, a hot cup was in front of her.

"It's not Maxwell," he commented, pushing some creamer and sugar towards her. "But I think you'll survive."

Beca took the offered coffee and poured in some cream and sugar. What had gotten into him? - Beca thought, giving the coffee a stir- He seems almost cheerful. Those blows to his head must have been harder than I thought.

Beca watched as Jesse busied himself, getting the Mac and cheese cooked in the microwave. He was wearing a grey sleeveless vest, the thin cotton clinging to his torso and lowriding sweatpants. After two sips of her coffee, Beca felt a little braver to speak up.

"Where's Bumper?" she asked.

"Home." came the monosyllabic answer.

"Why are you up?" Beca said. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"I'm fine." was all that he said. Jesse was leaning against the counter now, facing her. He lifted his own mug of coffee to his lips to take a sip and Beca's eyes momentarily jumped to his bicep.

They stood in awkward silence, sipping on their drinks for something to do.

Beca was consciously tucking her hair back, painfully aware what a mess she looked. Sleeping in yesterday's clothes which were none to clean, thanks to that stupid man spraying blood everywhere. Hair looking like a haystack. Smudged make-up. Yeah, very attractive, stole a glance at Jesse. His face still looked beaten up, with that busted lip, bruises down his cheek and jaw and a swollen eye. He looked like he had done ten rounds in a boxing ring and damn it, why did she suddenly found that hot?

The ping from the microwave sounded entirely too loud.

Jesse stirred the food and ladled out some for Beca. She stared at the yellow mess in front of her and dug in. Jesse watched as she carefully ate, blowing on each hot forkful. He could see her wincing a little when she raised her arm and the way she absentmindedly rubbed her upper arm, still chewing on her pasta.

"Your arm's hurting?" he said.

Beca stopped chewing for a moment and then nodded, not looking at him.

"That pipe must be heavy," Jesse commented. He didn't see her swinging that pipe against that giant on top of him. He was too busy trying to stay alive at that point but it must have been her. There was no one else there. He wondered how a tiny girl like her have the strength to wield that thing. It must be a good two feet long.

"I used to play softball. But it was some time ago," Beca responded. "That fucker's head must be made of concrete though. Took me a few tries."

She went back to eating her pasta.

"Why did you come back?" Jesse said softly.

"You needed help," Beca replied in mid chew. "I don't run from a fight."

"It could've been dangerous. They could have killed you."

"They didn't," Beca said nonchalantly. She dropped her fork and looked up at Jesse with her blue eyes. "Look. I could help; so I did. You could've been killed. I don't know very much about you; whether you have a family or not. But I was not about to let you die in some alley, ok? Just in case you have a sister or a brother or even your girlfriend..." She trailed off, scrunching her face a little. "I don't know. Dying that way sucks."

Jesse nodded at her explanation.

"Please don't think I have a soft spot for you or anything. I'll do it for anyone," Beca continued, the tone of her voice getting a little hard. "Plus you still have Nathan's stuff. I don't want those fuckers getting their hands on that either."

Jesse placed his mug on the counter.

"Yeah. About that -" he said. Beca's eyes immediately homed in on his and Jesse swiftly assured her. "Don't worry. I still have it. They didn't take anything off me last night."

He watched as relief flooded into her eyes. Fuck. She must really loved her brother.

"I had another look at it when you were sleeping," he continued. "It's a great song and I'm going to play it for you. As a thank you for last night."

She was looking down at the almost empty bowl of pasta now and Jesse couldn't quite read the expression on her face.

"Yeah. Ok." she finally replied. "That would be nice."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

 **Later on**

"Are you done yet?" Jesse hollered towards his bathroom.

"Yeah. Almost!" Beca shoutd back.

Jesus. How long did she need the bathroom for? She must have been there nearly forty five minutes. Jesse was already dressed in his jeans, and hoodie waiting. He tapped his foot and stared at the bathroom door, feeling a little impatient now. You would thought she would jumped immediately at his offer to play Nathan's stuff. but instead, that infuriating weirdo said she needed to use the bathroom.

Something about brushing her teeth and maybe a shower?

And can he lend her a towel?

Jesse had grumbled a little, trying to locate a towel and a spare toothbrush. This place was his bolthole, his own protected workspace. Only Bumper and now Dr. Krawcyzk knew of this place. He never brought anyone here, let alone keep spare toothbrushes for lady visitors. While rooting round for a towel just now, Jesse suddenly realised what those stains on Beca's hoody were. That dude who tried to kill him last night was a sprayer. His own clothes were a mess. Hers were no better. She was portably feeling a little grossed out by all blood the fucker bled all over her and needed that shower. His hand closed over an old tshirt before he handed the whole pile over to Beca and told her where the bathroom was.

Jesse glanced round his messy bedroom.

Maybe he should try to tidy up a little? Th place was messy. He hastily picked up his clothes, dumping them into the laundry basket, opened a window and dragged fresh bed linen out of his wardrobe. His bedroom looked marginally better. Yeah. Not too shabby. He wouldn't feel too ashamed now. Not that he was trying to impress her. He just wanted it a little neater, OK?

Jesse was halfway making his bed when the bathroom door open and Beca walked out. "I used some of your stuff," Beca was saying, drying her hair with the towel. "I hope you don't mind."

He should be annoyed but Jesse found he didn't mind at all. She had showered. Her hair was all wet, despite the vigorous way she was rubbing it with that towel and hanging loose behind her. She looked scrubbed and pink, all traces of the smudgy make-up gone. Still in her skinny jeans and bare feet, she was wearing his t-shirt, which, of course was far too big on her. She was also not wearing a bra.

"If you have a plastic bag - " Beca was saying.

Jesse's eyes snapped up.

"A bag?"

"Yeah. For these," Beca said, raising her arms slightly to show the dirty clothes she had in her arms.

"Um..." Jesse cleared his throat. "We're going to be some time. So..if you want to do a quick wash -" He made some sort of circling gesture at her clothes.

"Ok."

"Washing machine in the kitchen. It's one of those combined tumble dryer things. Quick wash is no. 4 -" Jesse was babbling now. No, he did not just look at her boobs again. God, he was not a perv. "There's soap in the cupboard -"

Beca was waving him away, already halfway out of the door, heading towards the kitchen.

"Let me show you how the machine works," Jesse said, following her from behind. "It can be temperamental sometimes."

"It's a washing machine. I think I've got it," she deadpanned. She bent over to peer at the controls and to open the door and Jesse averted his eyes.

"Where's the soap?" she asked.

"Right on the top shelf," Jesse replied, concentrating on a worn out spot on the kitchen counter. No, he was not going to stare at her ass. No matter how fantastic it looked in those jeans. He did, however, see her stuffing all her clothes inside the machine including her underwear. Wait. Does it mean she's...no. Is she? Is she commando under those sprayed on jeans?

Jesse only focused back when he heard the grunt from the little brunette. She was gazing up at the soap which was out of reach and he stepped forward, bringing the box down for her. Beca just merely scowled at him, almost daring him to crack a joke, but honestly he was too busy trying to keep his thoughts from straying into that territory.

"Umm...soap compartment's here," Jesse spoke up, pointing to the small box. "You might need to slam the door a bit or the cycle won't start."

Jesse could see Beca already had the situation under control despite all his attempts to be helpful. He should really let her get on with it. The kitchen was small. There was not much room for both of them to be standing between the kitchen counter and the washing machine like this. And she was too close. He was already crowding into her.

Is it warm in here?

Why was it too warm?

He could smell the scent of his body wash steaming off her clean skin and his shampoo in her hair. He never remembered both smelling that good.

"Ok, come through when you're ready," Jesse mumbled, swiftly stepping to one side and nearly toppling over Beca. "We'll work on Nathan's stuff," he hastily said to cover his embarrassment. He couldn't see the expression on Beca's face but he could see her nodding. And Jesse got the hell out of the kitchen, all the while wondering what the fuck was wrong with him.

* * *

"How are you with confined spaces?"

Beca turned her head towards Jesse. Did she hear him right?

"Excuse me?" she said, cocking her head to one side. What was this weirdo talking about now?

Once she had figured out the laundry and pulled on her trainers, Beca had gone to find Jesse. He was waiting in the living room, restlessly bouncing a bunch of keys in his hand and had beckoned to her to follow him. She has thought the apartment was small but the place was like a Tardis. They had gone through a couple of doors and down a few floors into a small basement . And just when she thought they had arrived, he asked that question.

"I hope you're not claustrophobic," he was nonchalantly saying, kicking aside what looked like a pile of old carpets to reveal a manhole on the floor. He took the cover off and Beca stared down into the dark. Was he serious?

"I'll go down first," Jesse said. "Since you're here, make yourself useful. Hold the flashlight."

She took the small flashlight offered to her and shone it down the hole. There were metal rungs drilled into the wall and Jesse was climbing down. She heard his feet thudding on terra firma before he hollered up for her to drop the flashlight and come down. What the fuck was she letting herself into? Beca gritted her teeth and climbed down. She missed the last rung and would have landed in a heap but Jesse caught her, setting her on her feet.

"Thanks," Beca mumbled, feeling a hot flush going up her neck.

He didn't say another word, spinning on his heels and walking ahead. Beca hurried after. They were walking through was a low ceiling, purpose built corridor, judging by the concrete finish. How long they walked Beca didn't know. She was right behind Jesse and couldn't see where they were going. They must be some distance away from the building by now and just when Beca was about to say something, Jesse stopped.

A utility door was on their left.

"Hold this," Jesse ordered, handling the flashlight to her again. The light fell on the various locks on the door. Jesse was pointedly staring at her and Beca averted her eyes as he undid the locks, opened the door and went through. It was another corridor, leading to an elevator. Jesse didn't say a word as they rode up, his fingers tapping against the metal wall. Beca rubbed her arms, feeling the goosebumps erupting on her skin.

"You cold?" she heard Jesse asking.

She nodded, looking away. She heard him sigh, in a resigned sort of way and the next, he had taken off his hoody and offered it to her. She was in two minds but took the hoody, shrugging it on and pulling the zip right up to her chin. It felt warm and smelled strangely comforting. The elevator jarred to halt and Jesse pulled the doors open with some force.

"Come with me." he ordered. "And don't touch anything!"


End file.
